“Wait until I return, if you will, please,” answered Harriet.

“Thave me!  I can’t wait.  Here I go now!” She slipped off and went under, but came up sputtering and protesting.  Instead of remaining to mark the sunken car, Tommy swam rapidly to shore.  She found Harriet, Hazel and Jane sitting with feet hanging over the pier talking to Miss Elting.  The four were dripping, but none of them seemed to mind this.  The sun soon would be up, and its rays would dry their clothing and bring them warmth for the first time since their disaster of the night before.

“Do be careful,” Miss Elting was saying when Tommy swam up, and, clinging to the pier with one hand, floated listlessly while listening to what was being said.

“What’s the matter, Tommy?  Couldn’t you stand it any longer?” asked Harriet.

“My feet got tho light that I couldn’t hang on.”

“She means her head instead of her feet,” corrected Margery.

“I think I had better go after the trunk now,” decided Harriet.

“I wish you would let me go with you,” urged Jane.

“No; two of us would be in each other’s way.  You folks had better stay here and wait.  There will be plenty to do after I get the trunk ashore, provided I do.  We must have all our outfit together by sunrise, for we have a day’s work ahead of us.  Want to get up, Tommy?”

“Yeth.”

Harriet reached down and assisted Grace, dripping, to the pier.  Then she slipped in and swam in a leisurely way to the sunken automobile, which she located after swimming about for a few moments.  The next thing to do was to find the rear end of the car.  This was quickly accomplished.  Harriet took a long breath, then dived swiftly.  It seemed to her companions that she had been gone a long time, when, finally, the girl’s dark head rose dripping from the pond.  She shook her head, took several long breaths, then dived again.

Three times Harriet Burrell repeated this.  At last, after a brief dive, they saw the black trunk leap free to the surface of the pond.  The Meadow-Brook Girls uttered a yell.  Harriet had accomplished a task that would have proved to be too much for the average man.  Down there, underneath the water, crouching under the backward tilting automobile on the bottom of the pond, she had unbuckled three stubborn straps, rising to the surface after unbuckling each strap, taking in a new supply of delicious fresh air, then returning to her task.

Before the Meadow-Brook Girls had finished with their shouting, cheering and gleeful dancing, the black luggage had drifted some distance from the spot where it had first appeared.  So delighted were they with the result of Harriet Burrell’s efforts that, for the moment, the others entirely forgot the girl herself.  But all at once Miss Elting came to a realization of the truth.  Something was wrong.

“Harriet!” she cried excitedly.  It was unusual for the guardian to show alarm, even though she might feel it.  “Where is Harriet?”